


All Hallows Eve

by unkissed



Series: The Color of Deception [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter Next Generation, Light Angst, Love, M/M, Marauders, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 08:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2501636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unkissed/pseuds/unkissed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the thirty-first of October when you can honestly smile again - A true smile, and not just a fragile façade to make everyone more amenable to the new teacher at Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Hallows Eve

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I'll be good I promise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2493014) by [ColorfulStabwound](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorfulStabwound/pseuds/ColorfulStabwound). 



> Gratitude and credit goes to ColorfulStabWound for inspiration, encouragement, and just plain brilliance.
> 
> This, along with the other stories in the Color of Deception series, goes hand-in-hand with the stories written by ColorfulStabWound in the Chronicles of Teddy and James series.
> 
> For James, who has zero fucks to give, and for Teddy, who wishes he could give Jamie everything.

It is the thirty-first of October when you can honestly smile again - A true smile, and not just a fragile façade to make everyone more amenable to the new teacher at Hogwarts.  You have Minerva McGonagall to thank for that. She helped you change your perspective and made you realize that you were putting more pressure on yourself than was warranted or healthy. 

 

But really, you’re smiling because of the boy sitting next to you.  You’re smiling because he loves you, and you love him, and you’ve just decided yesterday that you’re not going to fight it anymore. You know who you are, you know what you want, and you’re going to get it the _right_ way.

 

You’re just Teddy and he’s just Jamie, regardless of your positions in the hierarchal structure of Hogwarts. Sure, you have the power to give him detention, but he has the power to make your hair a brilliant shade of purple and that eradicates any sort of false sense of authority you have over him.  James could even argue, and you know he would some day, that it gives him complete dominion over you. He wouldn’t be completely wrong. You’ll do anything for this boy – it has always been this way, since he was born and you were six. But now you know that Jamie would do anything for you.

 

Maybe he’s brought you here, to this sleepy corner of Hogsmeade, to get you out of the dusty, old castle. You are certainly benefiting from some fresh air and sunshine.  Or maybe he coaxed you into coming out this Sunday afternoon to spend some time alone with you in the absence of any kind of pressure.  Jamie wasn’t putting you in a moral conundrum by kissing you behind a closed door where he wasn’t supposed to be.  You were just holding hands and enjoying each other’s company – _this_ was the _right_ way to go about things.

 

You could forget about the way it hurt to see Jamie with a different girl every night when you watched him on the Marauders’ Map. Perhaps he could forget how you lied to him and stomped on his already-shattered heart, the heart that you’d broken. But even if neither of you could really forget how you’d hurt each other, you could at least move forward now, rather than dwell in the mire of jealousy, despair, and unfulfilled desires. You’d forgiven each other. You could repair the damage that had been made.

 

So you smile like it’s Christmas and you’re certain that your happiness shows in every part of you.  And when your fingers lace with his, and you press your lips to his hand, you don’t need a mirror to tell you that your hair is bright purple – you see its meaning reflected in Jamie’s eyes. It might have been five seconds or five minutes, but time passes like molasses between you when you’re looking into each other’s eyes and speaking without words. 

 

You want to lean over and kiss him properly, but you refrain – not out of guilt or shame, but because it’s all part of your new intention of doing things the right way.  _Slow and steady wins the race_ , as the old proverb goes.  Not that this is a game.  You’re done with playing games and you dearly hope that Jamie is too.

 

You are still gazing softly at one another when you finally break the silence.  “Any big Halloween plans tonight?” you ask.  It’s not just a segue into small talk - you’re genuinely interested. And as soon as you say it, you realize it could also be interpreted as the beginnings of an invitation. You panic slightly at that thought because you’re not sure what you’d even do with Jamie on a Sunday night that didn’t potentially balk at school rules.

 

Jamie answers with his own question. “Why do you want to know?” He’s not defensive. In fact, he seems all too pleased that you’re asking.

 

You give him a small shrug.  “Just curious. I’ve no idea what goes on at Hogwarts on Halloween anymore.  Neville said there’s some festivities and I’m exempt from supervising them. That’s all I know.”

 

Jamie seems to take pride in being able to school the newbie as he lists all the Halloween events of note.  “Well, if you miss the frog and choir recital at dinner, Lily and Albie just may murder you.  Al’s got a solo.  So that’s really the only thing you should feel obligated to attend.  Other than that, there’s the charity pumpkin smash, which starts in,” he glances at his watch and gasp quietly, “shit, one hour.” He jumps to his feet, effectively tugging you along by your joined hands, and leads you both in the general direction of the school without even asking you.  “That’s over by Hagrid’s hut.  A sickle per whack with a big-arse sledge hammer, and all the money goes to St. Mungo’s Children’s Ward.  After dinner is the costume contest, AKA, the Sweets Sweep – the winner is decided by who gets the most candy chucked at them by the audience.  And after that, all the extra sweets are collected and sent to the kids at St. Mungo’s.”

 

“Wow,” is all you can manage, “Quite a lot has changed since I’ve been here.”

 

“Yeah, I’ll bet it was a crashing bore on Halloween before I got here.  It’s all thanks to me that anybody has anything to do on Halloween.  I run the show,” he says smugly.

 

You quirk an eyebrow.  “There’s going to be a show too?”

 

“It’s an expression – do keep up, Teddy. Merlin, you _really_ have no idea what goes on at this school, do you?”

 

Even though he’s subtly insulting you, you are loving it, because right now you’re more like _Teddy and Jamie_ than you’ve been in quite a while. Only Jamie can talk to you like that and not make you feel like an arse.

 

He continues, holding his head high and strutting like a peacock down the pathway, “I instituted all of those activities, other than the recital – I’m sure that went on while you were at school, back in the dark ages.” You giggle, even though you hate being reminded that there’s an age difference between you. “The prefects all oversee the events, and since I’m Head Boy, all I really have to do is make sure they do their job and don’t fuck up.”

 

You are ridiculously impressed. You had no idea Jamie gave a shit about the school, much less the ailing children stuck at St. Mungo’s. And you think to yourself, _Jamie really is a good kid after all_. But any of those thoughts are soon chased away.

 

“After hours is when the _real_ fun begins.”  Jamie’s smile turns sinister, and you wonder if you’re about to be put in the uncomfortable position of being a professor and privy to some illegal activity that’s planned for tonight. 

 

“Do I really want to know what that entails?” you ask with a twist of your lips.

 

“Well, you bloody asked,” he says, dropping your hand to nudge your side with his elbow, just as you come to the path that leads from Hogsmeade up to the school.  You wonder if that was strategic.  You’re inwardly thankful that Jamie knows how to be sneaky – because even though you love him, you probably shouldn’t get caught holding hands.

 

He goes on, whispering scandalously, though there’s absolutely nobody else on the path, “The Ghost Walk. It’s a secret tradition that’s been going on for ages.  I honestly can’t believe you don’t know about it.”

 

“Oh _that._ Well, in my day, I was a lot more interested in studying than sneaking out of the dorms to chase after ghosts,” you admit.

 

“Right.  I forgot for a moment that you’re a huge nerd,” he teases.

 

You remember how coveted those invitations had been to go ghost hunting with the cool kids on All Hallows Eve, when the spirits were at their most restless.  You declined the two times you’d been invited because you were afraid of who you’d encounter – you didn’t fancy meeting the ghosts of your parents and crying in front of the social elite of Hogwarts.

 

“Anyway, my mates and I are actually going to attempt taking the secret passage from the Whomping Willow into the Shrieking Shack,” James declares, seemingly triumphant before it is even warranted.

 

You frown slightly.  “So you had ulterior motives in taking me to Hogsmeade, hm? Were you scoping the joint?”

 

“Yes and no,” is all he offers. This is Jamie, and you can hardly expect anything else, even though you’re starting to break down the barriers between you.

 

“You do know that the shack isn’t really the most haunted place in the UK, right?” you ask.

 

“Well, duh.  I know that rumor was started all because of your dad.  But that doesn’t mean it’s not haunted at all. A lot of shit went down there during the war.  People say the spirits that linger there are hostile as fuck.”  James doesn’t seem the least bit perturbed or dissuaded from his plans. In fact, he seems downright thrilled.

 

“How do you even know about that path?” you wonder.

 

“I’d always seen it on the Marauders’ Map, but I didn’t know how to access it.  Uncle Ron was a bit sloshed at a barbecue this summer and he told me some crazy stories about how he got dragged into the Whomping Willow by Sirius Black and ended up in the Shrieking Shack.  I put two and two together.  It wasn’t hard to figure it out.”

 

You sigh because it brings up all sorts of things that you’re uncomfortable with.  For one, you’re not too keen that Jamie is planning on getting up close and personal with the Whomping Willow.  Second, you’re horribly reminded of the legacy that your father left.  You know that the entire complex, from the murderous tree to the shack, was constructed for the sole purpose of allowing your dad to safely transition to a werewolf every month while he was attending school as a student and during his short stint as a teacher.

 

“Jamie, I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” you groan. “You don’t know what you’ll find inside that tunnel.  I doubt it’s been used since the war.”

 

“Which is why you’re coming,” he declares, leaving you no room to argue, but you do anyway.

 

“Absofuckinglutely not,” you say with a mirthless laugh because you’re dryly amused at his gall, “I’ll not be an accomplice. It could get me fired.”

 

“Not if you say you followed some shady-looking kids into the tunnel,” he reasons, “You could say you were just doing the responsible thing as a professor and seeing what they were up to.”

 

You scoff and pierce him with a pointed look, “And what do you think will happen to _you_ when I supposedly catch you sneaking around with those shifty kids? Hm, Head Boy?”

 

“I was also just doing my job,” he says.

 

“You’d sell out your mates like that?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

 

“We’re not going to get caught so it doesn’t matter,” he says dismissively.  “Come on, Teddy. It’s going to be brilliant.”

 

 

~@~

 

Later that evening, you find yourself going to meet a small group of students at a safe distance from the Whomping Willow. When you approach, they don’t disperse like they should had a professor caught them out of the castle dangerously close to curfew.  And that’s because you’re not a professor tonight.  You’re a fourteen-year-old version of yourself, wearing a hooded jumper to cover your conspicuously colored hair.  As a metamorphmagus, you could change your face completely. You rarely did it, for it was against the law for a metamorphmagus to masquerade as someone else. But you’re not pretending to be somebody else, technically.  You’re still you, with softer lines and more youthful features.

 

You are not there for a bit of Halloween adventure. You’re there because you couldn’t otherwise sit idly in your staff quarters knowing that Jamie was putting himself in a very precarious situation.  But you’ll let Jamie believe that you’re there to have fun because you know the last thing he wants is a babysitter.

 

You walk up from behind and tap him on the shoulder. He turns around and is momentarily confused when you stand there, silently beaming at him.  When realization dawns it lights up his face and he gasps, dragging you away from the rest of the group to whisper with amazement, “Merlin’s tits, Teddy!”

 

You’re quite pleased with yourself and the reaction your innate ability had elicited.  “You didn’t think I’d show up looking like Professor Lupin, did you?”

 

“To be honest, I didn’t think you’d show up at all,” he admits.  He’s still gaping at you with wonder and you feel like you’re a child again, impressing your little god brother with your talent.  “Bloody hell.  You look younger than _me_.”

 

“I found a yearbook in the archives of the library and used my class photo from fourth year as reference,” you explain.

 

He eyes you up and down shamelessly. “Fourteen?  Shit.  You’re fucking _cute_ ,” he assesses with a little smirk, “I feel like a goddamn pervert.”

 

“Now you know exactly how I feel,” you joke, although you’re really not.  You’ve been attracted to Jamie since he was fifteen and you remember how uncomfortable you’d been with those feelings when he was so young.  At least he’s just a couple months shy of eighteen now and your attraction could be considered much less lecherous.

 

 

Sebastian Wood, Jamie’s best mate, comes over and claps him on the shoulder.  “If we’re all here, we should get going.”  He narrows his eyes at you.  “Who’s this?”

 

“This is Ted.  He’s a Hufflepuff who’s paying me a several galleons for the privilege of going on the Ghost Walk.”  Jamie lies flawlessly. You should be disturbed by how easily and effectively he can deceive his best friend, but it’s working in your favor, so you just smile and wave.

 

“Dude, you’re splitting that money with me,” declares Sebastian.

 

“Let’s do this!” shouts Jamie, and all the students rally around him.

 

The branches of the Whomping Willow are covered with red autumn leaves that flutter to the ground in the wind. If you didn’t know what it was capable of, you’d say it looked beautiful in the waning moonlight. You’re quite prepared to knock any of the students out of harms way, should the tree get violent, and you are certain it will.  You brace yourself and curl your fingers around your wand hidden in the pouch of your hoodie.

 

Jamie retrieves a Quaffle from the ground and everybody starts cheering him on.

 

Sebastian says, “If you miss, you’re going to thoroughly piss off this tree.  Don’t fuck this up.”

 

Jamie raises a brow as he holds the ball in a single splayed palm as naturally as if it were an extension of his hand. “I never miss.”

 

You look on with utter confusion. Do they actually think they can stun the Whomping Willow with a Quaffle?  James approaches the tree carefully, quietly creeping towards it. The willow comes to life, raising its branches in a slow stretch as if roused from sleep. Jamie is getting way too close for your liking and you can’t stop yourself from following him.

 

But then Jamie throws the quaffle expertly at a knot on the trunk as soon as one of the lifting branches uncovers it. You hold your breath, ready to sprint if you need to.  The ball hits its mark, sending the group into a frenzy of celebratory hoots and hollers in praise of Jamie’s Quidditch prowess.  He turns around and bows, just as all the branches come drooping down. You gasp, believing that Jamie is about to get whacked on the back of the head, but you quickly realize that the Whomping Willow has been effectively deactivated, as if a switch had been flicked.

 

You smile and your fourteen-year-old self is swooning. You always knew Jamie was a cool kid, but you never really had the opportunity to see just how cool he was.

 

“Wait wait wait!” Albie comes running down the hill with Scorpius in tow and Jamie swears loudly.

 

“Fuck.  How’d you find out?” he says, slumping his shoulders as if his little brother has rained all over his parade.

 

“We’re Slytherins.  We have our ways of obtaining classified information,” Scorpius says smugly.

 

“Besides, it’s the Shrieking Shack. You didn’t honestly think I’d pass up the chance to go?” says Albie, nudging his brother on the arm.

 

“You’re only in fifth year – you’re too young for the Ghost Walk,” Jamie mutters.

 

“What about _that_ , kid?” Albie gestures at you and you stiffen, worried that he won’t have the tact to keep it to himself if he recognizes you.

 

“He paid me,” is all Jamie explains.

 

You pull the hood closer to your face and you’re thankful that it’s so dark.

 

Your group of now eight is complete and you crawl into a hole at the base of the tree, one by one, with your wands lit dimly. Jamie leads the pack and you strategically take up the rear in case trouble follows you in. You identify each face as they go in as if taking attendance in class, again as a measure of safety. You’ll be the one to make sure that everyone that goes in comes back out.  After Jamie is Sebastian, and behind him is a Gryffindor sixth year named Morticia Montgomery, followed by seventh year Slytherin Steven Shen, then Ravenclaw seventh year Darwin Cruz.  Scorpius crawls in next with his other half close behind.

 

Albus pauses to stare at you curiously with narrowed eyes.  “Do I know you?”

 

You lower your hood briefly and then press a finger to your lips when he realizes who you are.  “Sssh!”

 

Albie giggles mischievously and you know your secret is safe.

 

 

Inside, the tunnel is cramped and just large enough to barely fit somebody crawling on hands and knees. You are on the verge of a claustrophobic panic for a moment, fearing that the entire length of the tunnel is this tight, but it soon opens up into a vast corridor, as high and wide as any of the passageways in the dungeons of the castle, and just as dingy. The walls appear earthen, but before you can start to worry about the possibility of a cave-in, you realize in the wand-light that the sturdy stone walls are just caked with dirt.

 

The thirty-minute walk is rather unremarkable. The tunnel appears to be completely uninhabited by any ghosts or even a burrowing animal. Just to make the walk entertaining, the students take it upon themselves to scare each other. The racket they’re creating could chase away any would-be lingering spirits.  When you reach the basement of the Shrieking Shack, you return to single-file formation to climb the stairs.

 

You’re at the foot of the stairs when you hear a sound behind you.  You don’t take the time to alert your companions before you turn to investigate the noise. You hear men’s voices echoing in the tunnel.  You think you’ve been caught, but you realize that the voices are merry.  From the sounds they make, you’d guess there were three or four men, joking and laughing.  Perhaps they’re a few stragglers who found out about the ghost walk and are coming to join the group.  You retrace your path through the tunnel to investigate further with your wand lighting the way.

 

And then you stop dead in your tracks. You can make out three distinct spectral figures coming down the tunnel.  You find yourself frozen to the spot, unable to run back to the shack to retrieve your fellow ghost hunters.  You were never really afraid of ghosts, but there’s something about these three that makes your spine tingle.  Your heart beats fast in your ears as they approach quickly, unaware of your presence.

 

But not for long.  “Somebody’s here,” hisses one of the ghosts.

 

The ethereal figures transform into three animal shapes as they bound toward you, never touching the ground with their feet. As they come closer, it becomes evident that there is a stag, a large dog, and an enormous wolf. Your heart gets caught in your throat and your eyes suddenly sting with unshed tears.

 

You know exactly whose ghosts you’ve encountered.

 

Your extended arm shakes, holding out your wand to light the path of the approaching spirits, who snarl and gallop toward you, seemingly intent on scaring the life out of you.  But you’re not as afraid as you should be, not even when they come right up to you with menacing teeth and claws and hooves and antlers. You stand trembling, your breath hitching and erratic, unable to speak for fear of crying out, not in terror, but in despair.

 

The giant wolf howls right in your face and his ghostly breath is a gust of wind that knocks the hood off your head. And finally, with a small, quivering voice, you speak, and the tears roll silently down your cheeks, which have been leeched of color.

 

“Dad… It’s me… Teddy… Don’t you recognize me?”

 

The wolf suddenly morphs into the shape of a man, and you find the ghost of your father standing before you. And it kills you because he’s close enough to embrace, but your arms would just pass through his body like dust floating in stagnant air.

 

Remus Lupin covers his mouth to stifle a sob. You didn’t know ghosts could cry, but now you are aware of this fact.  “Teddy… My son… My dear boy.” 

 

You’re reduced from a twenty-three-year-old hiding in a fourteen-year-old’s body to a little boy.  “Daddy.  I miss you.” You crumble to the dirt floor as the sobs rack your body. 

 

He follows you down and lays an ethereal hand on your shoulder – it feels like cold air, completely incorporeal and gives you no comfort.  “You never knew me,” he says sadly, “How could you miss me?”

 

“I just do.  I miss you.  I miss mum,” you say through your tears. 

 

By now, you’ve lost the energy to keep your younger façade and your father’s companions have returned to their human shapes. James Potter and Sirius Black are standing behind and looking on with somber eyes.

 

“I miss you… And I miss her too,” your father admits.

 

“Don’t you see her?  Is she not here?  Or there? Wherever you are?” you wonder, confused about the whole nature of the afterlife.

 

He shakes his head slowly, sadly. “Every All Souls Eve, The Marauders reunite here.  And here, we are bound for the night.  I’ve never seen your mum. Not since I died by her side.”

 

You screw your eyes shut and they are swollen with tears.  You’ve no words to express how lost and hollow you feel in the presence of your father’s ghost. And to know that your parents were truly parted by death makes you feel completely hopeless.

 

“Teddy?” Jamie’s voice calls out behind you in the distance. “Are you there?”

 

You are quick to return to your feet and dab at your eyes with your sleeve, but it’s useless.  Your ragged voice responds, “I’m here!  Come back down the tunnel.  There’s somebody you should meet.”

 

When Jamie finds you, he already knows. He offers you a small, sad smile and closes his hand around yours. 

 

“Jamie, this is your grandfather,” you say, smiling just as solemnly as everyone in this gloomy reunion of sorts.

 

They nod at one another in silent acknowledgement.

 

“Looks just like you, James,” says Sirius, “And probably getting into just as much trouble,” he muses.

 

“Pretty much,” Jamie admits, noticeably humbled by the presence of the grandfather he never knew.

 

“Harry honored you, Sirius, with his son’s name,” you say, and you feel Jamie’s fingers tighten around yours.

 

“James and Sirius.  If ever there were a pair of more naughty boys,” your dad says wistfully, “And I can only imagine how you’re living up to those names, Jamie.”

 

You both can’t help but giggle at this because it is true.

 

“I take it Harry cared for you like I’d asked, Teddy?” your dad questions.

 

“He’s like a father to me.  I’m pretty much part of the family.  Jamie’s practically my brother.”  Your words are meant to reassure your father, but you feel Jamie stiffen slightly.

 

“You’re watching out for one another, then?” James Potter asks.

 

“You don’t need to worry about your grandson. I’d do anything for Jamie.” Then you turn to the Potter in question and your smile brightens.  “I love him.” Jamie turns to face you with a look of both joy and astonishment on his face.  You pull him into your arms, press your foreheads together and whisper, “I’ve always loved him.”

 

When you tear your glance away from him, your father is walking away with his arms slung over the shoulders of his companions.

 

“See you next year?” you shout hopefully after them.

 

“See you next year, son,” says your dad over his shoulder.

 

 

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A stitch in time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2613653) by [ColorfulStabwound](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorfulStabwound/pseuds/ColorfulStabwound)




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